Chapter Text
Under the draining summer heat, Madara and the juniors conversing among themselves, Tatsumi’s leg feels off. It is not painful (yet), but he cannot afford to discard his intuition. The last thing he wants- the last thing he needs- is to hold ALKALOID back.
“Ah, it seems to be getting hotter. Would you all like some water? I’m sure the staff should know where we can get some.” Water sounds nice right now, but Tatsumi honestly cannot bring himself to drink. It is an unfortunate development from his time in the hospital, though drinking is easier than eating, at least.
Pulling his own bottle up from the grass, Hiiro states, “I am good, but thank you for your offer! It’s not that hot for me, and if Aira needs water, he can always drink from my bottle.” He offers the bottle to the youngest member of ALKALOID, only to be met with rejection. With a whine, Aira chides him about germs as his face reddens.
With a hearty laugh at their antics, Madara directs Tatsumi behind the stage, where he can finally find some relief. All he needs to do is get there with the legs that necessitated his departure to begin with.
Having a glass of water sounds more appealing as Tatsumi nears a secluded foldable chair in the shade. At the other end of the set, the water bottles are situated, but the movement behind them captures his attention; purple hair slips past the shiny speakers and the untouched audio setup, heading towards the venue- ALKALOID’s first battlefield.
The determined look on his face prompts Tatsumi to rise. He trusts Mayoi with his life, which is precisely why he must seek him. If Mayoi, who always kept ALKALOID’s care and safety as his priority, has reasons to investigate deeper, then it would surely be something for the rest of them to consider, too. After all, Crazy:B were chaotic and unpredictable, and there was no guarantee that Eichi’s plan would succeed. The least that Tatsumi could do was relieve Mayoi of any stress or burdens at this time.
However, Tatsumi is still hesitant. With Hiiro’s own brother facing public ridicule, they could certainly expect a repeat of the incident at Trickstar’s live; but, if they are successful, this summer’s affair can be settled once and for all, and ALKALOID would be crowned its heroes.
Madara, Hiiro, and Aira are too far away for him to check up on them, though the mood away from the venue is light and hopeful, and Tatsumi prays that it remains this way as his body shifts, his cursed leg stepping forth with vigor rivaling the other.
From ahead, Mayoi slips between two panes of the dome’s exterior, and another prayer slips through Tatsumi’s lips as he considers how many vents the stadium could possibly need. The catacombs had been worse, he reminds himself, as he follows in his unitmate’s footsteps.
In times like this, his hearing is a blessing as he tracks down Mayoi’s movements. It’s easier to avoid putting pressure on his leg with the ceiling of the vent being as tall as it is, but the internal pressure undoes that effort without consideration. He cannot go back outside like this, but at least Mayoi has stopped making noises, so if his guess is true…
Analyzing the sight in front of him with harsh eyes from a gap in the vents, Mayoi sits in a perfect seiza. Yellow, blue, and white, dance across his face as the light from below slices through the gap, its brightness heightened by the shadows enveloping the seniors on all ends.
“Mayoi-san?” Tatsumi whispers.
The yelp, expected as it is, does not startle him. The stammering, too, proceeds as planned, and having already made two true estimations in a row, he makes a wager with the third.
“I was simply curious to know where you had gone, fufu! Is there anything plaguing your mind about our plan? It is a great endeavour, but we have no reason to doubt ourselves.”
Mayoi stutters for a moment, but when his composure returns, it is not his typical self that surfaces, but rather the stoic, strict expression that he adopts during training. “I… I know that Tenshouin-san will call us when he needs us, but Crazy:B are not simple opponents. I’ve been reviewing their past performances, and there is every reason to worry.
“To put it simply, as we saw at the Idol Royale, they are powerful. From the debriefing with Tenshouin-san, we already know that Amagi-san, Shiina-san, and HiMERU-san are all experienced idols, and it shows in their performances. No matter what people may say about their lack of coordination as a unit, they are still talented singers, and their dancing, despite their mishaps, is still captivating. That works against us, since the only experienced idol that we have is you, Tatsumi-san.
“Besides, their planning is careful and meticulous. The way that they annihilated Akatsuki and RYUSEITAI was barbaric and unparalleled. Even if they do not plan on facing ALKALOID, we can certainly expect them to have some strategy that they can use against us- that is, if they do not intend on beating us with talent alone.”
Suddenly, Tatsumi swears he hears a switch flip.
“…Ah! I apologize for implying that ALKALOID is any lesser, or that Tenshouin-san has made any fault! Going around, making such assumptions without reason… surely, the only fault here is meeeee!”
Tatsumi shakes his head. “No Mayoi-san, you have not said anything wrong. In fact, all of your observations have been entirely accurate. Though there is something that I must add.
“Although this isn’t as common in many idols in the present, in the past, many idols were rather subpar at dancing and singing. We are not quite so mediocre, as you know best. However, my point is that we should not place our hopes on singing and dancing alone; stage presence and personality are very important factors. Even if ALKALOID are not protagonists like Trickstar, we still have quite the personalities, fufu.”
Nodding with a wobbly smile, they fall silent as Mayoi shyly returns his gaze to the stage. Nothing that Mayoi stated is incorrect. ALKALOID are inexperienced compared to Crazy:B, and as reckless as they have been, they have still amassed a considerable following. Eichi’s plan had little to criticize, otherwise they may not have gotten involved, but to think that they may lose not of their own shortcomings but simply because they were inadequate compared to their enemy was disheartening.
But, Tatsumi reminds himself, Aira, Hiiro, Mayoi, and he have all improved greatly over the month. To cast that away now would undo all of their effort, and insult the contributions of each member. No matter what may happen on the stage, Tatsumi wants to be with ALKALOID. And so, if he has to fight for it, he will, with the tenacity of the soldiers that they were painted to be. Even against him.
He will be on that stage, too, won’t he? Will he need to fall from grace again?
“Mayoi-san, is it alright if I join you for a moment longer? As selfish as it may be, there are things that I need to see as well.”
“Is it about HiMERU?”
Perhaps it was in the set of his mouth or the shape of his eyes, as Mayoi is rather observant, but it matters little to Tatsumi. He responds positively. The inquiry does not offend him in the slightest, even as Mayoi grows red from guilt. He should say more, but it feels unnecessary. His time in Reimei, painful as it was, had been shared to Mayoi for a reason; he knew where to pull and where to push, and right now was no different.
HiMERU and he may have drifted, but that gives him no reason to hurt him any further. The HiMERU of today tramples on the dreams of others, but he, too, is driven to desperation. Tatsumi can end his struggles and ALKALOID’s struggles in one fell swoop if-
-Its hopeful thinking, but, God, does hope taste delicious.
From beyond the vents, cheers begin to erupt as fine takes the stage. Even from their distance, Tatsumi and Mayoi can observe their gleaming smiles in spite of the poison spreading beneath their feet. But that, too, is the responsibility of a professional idol- to spread hope, love, and reassurance to those souls who could not find it elsewhere. To please, to calm, to nurture, that is what idols seek to do, Tatsumi writes in his heart.
Following the grand reception, Eden takes the stage, the electricity palpable as the fans roar. But, having observed some of Eden’s performances during his recovery, Tatsumi recognizes the restraint in the affection. As COSPRO idols, it seems that even Eden, who was exempt from the sting of Crazy:B, cannot find reprieve. Still, they stand with their heads held high, confident in their own prowess.
Then, they address the crowd which, to Tatsumi and Mayoi’s chagrin, is muffled. Slowly, Mayoi pulls a flap from the vents open and gestures at Tatsumi to follow him as he drops down below.
Wincing from the sharp prick on his leg at his landing, Tatsumi sighs. It can be worse. The voices are still hushed, so Mayoi travels closer to the stage from the shadows, Tatsumi working overtime to trail behind him.
Even with the lack of volume due to their clandestine investigation’s required secrecy, the shrieks of the audience at the appearance of Crazy:B is harrowing. Their contempt, palpable in their glares alone, shows the general public’s opinion- nothing more than disdain at those who corrupt the shining presence of their idols.
Stealing a glance at the stage as he follows Mayoi, Tatsumi notes with relief that HiMERU is not there. In fact, only Rinne Amagi is present from the unit. When Tatsumi’s attention is back on Mayoi, he notes how his fellow senior’s eyebrows furrow at the sight. It is undoubtedly concerning, but Tatsumi considers that they may not fight at all tonight with only one member of the unit present.
Mayoi, satisfied with the sound at his location, motions Tatsumi over. He is blessed with the railing at his side, supporting his weight.
Once he is next to his unitmate, he sits down immediately. It’s been a long few minutes, crawling this way and that, and Mayoi drops next to him.
“Oh, Tatsumi-san! Would you like me to massage your leg? Actually, you shouldn’t! I have been absolutely inconsiderate, making you walk this much, making you follow me in the vents… Punish me as you see fit!”
Already working on his leg, Tatsumi opens his mouth to placate Mayoi, possibly even take him up on the offer when Rinne Amagi jumps down from the stage, his hollering loud and clear.
Confused. That is how Tatsumi feels as he hears Rinne call out to the audience, taunting them for his acquittal. “Are you angry?” He questions again, and again. Boastfully, he cackles; he prods at every one in front of him young or old, Akatsuki fan, RYUSEITAI fan, and so forth, and he calls them to violence, to vengeance, to vice.
It is, plainly put, unfathomable. This is not stupidity, because Tatsumi was stupid, back in his Reimei days, when he condemned another human being to misfortune. Tatsumi is stupid, as he stands up slowly, leaving Mayoi on the floor, just to stare at a madman who lashed out at idols for their disrespect and dishonesty.
Tatsumi is accustomed to idiots, regards them affectionately. That is why when he stares at Rinne, he ponders over HiMERU’s share in all of this, and considers the world that Rinne is trying to bring.
Rinne is not an idiot.
But he is a target. A target of scorn, disdain, and anger. A target of violence, vengeance, and vice. He does not please, calm, or nurture, because he is not an idol. Never before had an idol needed another unit to apologize on their behalf, even under ES’ reign. Rinne is risking his life for something more than just the idol industry’s disservice to him. Tatsumi knows it.
The crowd’s cries rise in ferocity as the wind is knocked out of Tatsumi’s lungs with his revelation. These people, they were starved, and Rinne played into it. But did he know that they would take him apart limb from limb? That they would go for his face, his gut, his feet. They would shatter his kneecap, reminding him of his hubris, or thrash his skull into two, so that he could not wake up the same man.
The crowd reacts; a flicker catches Tatsumi’s eye, and an empty water bottle is dropping, so close to him that he can grasp it. He does.
Rapt, his gaze returns to Rinne, needing to see what happens next, but he swears that their eyes meet. Although, with the distance between them, Tatsumi cannot see the expression on his face. Was it a mere coincidence?
Oh. Tatsumi put Eichi’s plan in jeopardy. If Rinne’s eyes were half as sharp as Hiiro’s he would have seen Mayoi and him.
Though, Rinne is not looking up anymore. Poking deeper, pulling at wounds, he slowly saunters closer to the audience. Eden and fine are not using their microphones, but Tatsumi can see Ibara call out to Rinne. It is fruitless, as Rinne walks closer and closer and-
-In the distance, Tatsumi swears he sees another flicker catching the light. Closer to the exit, above Rinne’s position, the darkness is condescending as the light is still focused on the stage. It’s only a matter of seconds before the object can be made visible.
Mayoi’s gasp lines up with his as a water bottle- full, this time- falls on Rinne, thoroughly drenching him.
“Kyahaha~! Ya know, y’all were supposed ta punish me, but this is more of a gift really. Man, it’s been so hot lately! But I don’t gotta worry ‘bout that with all the mercy in yer hearts, now do I? Thanksies~!” Rinne taunts.
He sets up the audience for the next jest, not that Tatsumi needs to see it. He needs to go to Hiiro and Aira, needs to prepare ALKALOID, needs to move his leg.
Now, the dam breaks. Bottles, plastic bags, and other junk are being hurled at the leader of Crazy:B.
Move.
Rinne still laughs in the face of it all, but the strain in his voice suggests pain.
Move.
Kaname’s body curled in the same way when the first punch landed.
Move!
“Tatsumi-san? We need to leave.” Mayoi calls out.
I can’t.
Mayoi loops Tatsumi’s arms around his own neck as he carries him in a piggyback ride, just as Tatsumi had done for him in the past.
“The entrance where we came from is crowding, so we need a new route.”
Tatsumi really could not care less, but unfortunately, the other vents are not as big as the one they came from. Can it get worse?
Speed is of the essence, so Mayoi wordlessly takes the lead, Tatsumi lagging behind as he crawls on his knees, his weight mostly resting on his arms.
A grunt escapes him before he notices it. Mayoi turns around in concern, but his eyes widen not when they look at Tatsumi, but when they glance below him.
“T-Tatsumi-san... you need to move slowly. The vent that you’re standing on can break at any second...”
Shifting his stance is too much. The panel gives way and Tatsumi descends.
Unlike when he fell from the stage back then, he does not hit the floor. The ground is cold, possible a little wet, yet steady.
“Oi.”
Immediately, Tatsumi moves to the side, face-to-face with Rinne Amagi, beads of water dripping from his bangs.
Rinne was supposed to be running away from a mob, Tatsumi remembers as much, but he has more pressing concerns. As much as he wishes that he could detain Rinne and set things right, his leg won’t allow it. He is done.
Still, for someone meant to be running away, he is remarkably calm. There is no indication of panic, his jaw set solid, and Tatsumi can understand how this man could be the monarch of an entire village in the steely expression that captures his handsome features.
“Ya were there, weren’t ya?” Rinne questions, voice deep and sharp.
Tatsumi isn’t sure what expression he makes in response, because Rinne’s demeanor flips entirely, the electricity in his cyan eyes making way for the serene blue of the sky.
“You… Ya need anything?” His tone shifts, gentle, but not cordial or amicable. Dropping to one knee, Rinne gets on his level instead of hovering over him.
Loathe as he is to put Rinne in this position, it would not do him well to neglect his body, and so he begrudgingly mutters, “Hospital.”
Then, Rinne cautiously picks him up in a bridal carry, his hands and clothes still wet from the demonstration in the venue. Tatsumi tries his best not to wince as his leg shifts. Breathe, he reminds himself, as he settles in the arms of the man that the world condemns with his eyes shut tight. Everything else, the controversy, the anger, the undone apology, needs to be willed away.
From the other end of the hall, the chatter of the mob and the pounding of their footsteps draws nearer. Rinne inclines his head, showing attention, though his eyes never drifted from ALKALOID’s senior.
“Look. I’m gonna run, and it might hurt ya. Ya just have to deal with it.” Rinne supplies. That’s fine for Tatsumi. It cannot get worse.
And then they are off, Rinne bolting through the halls like lightning. Tatsumi's grasp around his neck tightens, eyes shut tight. There is too much going on, outside and inside of him. He does not have the time to think about what they may look like to StarPro, what ALKALOID will do next, why Rinne Amagi is showing him such kindness.
It must have been a minute or two at their pace before Rinne is setting him down at a bench outside of the hospital.
Suddenly, Rinne says, “Well, this is as far as I go. Ya better not tell anyone ‘bout seeing me here, ya hear?”
It makes sense given the situation, and Tatsumi is in no position to stop him, his jaw clenched tight. All he can do is nod. Rinne kneels again, staring right into his eyes.
“If ya meet Hiiro before me, ya oughta give him this.” A letter is placed in his lap, and the man before him is darting off the moment they make eye contact.
With nothing better to do, Tatsumi peels himself up from the bench, using anything he can get his hands on to propel himself to the door of the hospital. After brushing his hand through his hair, he notes that his hat is gone. What a shame.
A couple leaving the hospital come to his aid, and he prays for them as thanks for their support. As he enters, he can hear Hiiro’s voice in the distance, calling out to his brother, but Tatsumi cannot turn around in this state.
The doctor will come in a minute, they tell him. It might be enough time for him to sort out who Rinne Amagi is.